


What I've Strung Together

by Jalules



Category: Gatchaman Crowds
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Future Fic, Series Spoilers, T rating for brief mention of nudity??, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalules/pseuds/Jalules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think everyone will cry?” </p>
<p>Utsutsu and Hajime on the morning of their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I've Strung Together

**Author's Note:**

> I almost didn't want to post this because it's a silly wedding themed fic, but the G-Crowds section is so small...I couldn't not. Cross-posted from tumblr. Title comes from Sara Bareilles' 'I Choose You' which is a really touching wedding song that makes me cry a whole lot. Yup.

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.

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Utsutsu cannot get married today.

She simply cannot.

She’s jittery with nerves, sick to her stomach, and though Hajime has already coerced her into her dress, the coordinating bouquet she has been clutching for the past two hours has already been accidentally shriveled and reanimated by her shaking hands half a dozen times. Her heart feels not unlike the flowers, flip-flopping between sinking dread and moments of pure joy, teetering on an unseen boundary between the two so that she can hardly tell which she’s feeling from one second to the next. All she can be sure of is that she is terrified, and, distantly, a little gloomy.

_Not right._

It’s drizzling outside, despite what positive weather reports had earlier suggested, and the bedroom she shares with Hajime feels too stuffy, nearing humid. Everything feels much too close all at once, and when it seems as though the breath she’s taking in won’t reach all the spaces in her lungs that it needs to, she finally drops the bouquet beside her on the bed, breathes slower, deeper, to keep herself together.

“Do you think everyone will cry?”

Hajime’s voice comes echoing from the bathroom, where a get-ready routine has finally been put into motion after a good while spent fawning over the tiny bows in Utsutsu’s pearled headband, the one that’s still sitting on the dresser because she didn’t quite have the heart to put it on and complete the outfit yet.

“I think they probably will,” Hajime answers herself, then says, quiet, “Ohh shush, shush, you are _not_ crying you big liar!”

Utsutsu has grown used to this, the conversation with no one. She leaves Hajime be whenever Katse starts mouthing off, lets her handle it herself. Heaven knows Hajime can handle everything herself. She’s so capable, sometimes Utsutsu starts to feel a little, well.

_Unnecessary._

Deep breath, deeper breath, and Utsutsu stares down at the ruffled tiers of her skirt, “Sugane will cry,” She says quietly, and somehow Hajime hears her.

“But he cries all the time!” She counters, as though he isn’t figured into the equation. And perhaps not. Good friends may or may not cry at weddings, but it’s much more expected for parents to, which might suggest, “I bet O.D will get a little teary!”

Deepest breath. Utsutsu closes her eyes. There’s too much lace in here. Too much color. Too many things that are shared between herself and Hajime and none of them are things she can stand to lose, right down to the indent on the side of the bed that is mostly Hajime’s but sometimes occupied by half of Utsutsu when she’s pulled in to snuggle up when she feels too empty or Hajime is full to bursting and simply must share.

“I don’t want anyone to cry,” She says, quieter, and this time Hajime doesn’t hear. She is probably curling her eyelashes for the special occasion, twisting her hair up and into pretty shapes with a thousand gem-tipped pins. She is probably laughing at Katse’s muttering about her poor taste, pressing the invitation she hand wrote just for Katse to her chest, as though it can be read through skin and bone.

“Paipai _definitely_ will,” Hajime says, laughing, though it’s hard to say if it’s at herself or a disgruntled and diffused alien threat to the planet, “Like a baby!”

Panic. Hajime is taking this too lightly. She’s too bright, she’s floating away while Utsutsu sinks farther and farther down, gets lost in a rush of emotion that is too much, too strong. She’s gotten used to happy over time, grown accustomed to the good things being with Hajime makes her feel. She has a background in slow misery. This push and pull of happy to sad, looming fear blended with excitement, is still relatively new, makes her feel like she might break, might simply explode.

She can never be so full as her better half.

“Hajime,” She says sharply, as loud as she can manage, “I don’t want anyone to cry!”

She sounds more upset than she means to, precisely as upset as she actually is. The adjacent room has gone silent.

She looks up in time to see Hajime lean out of the bathroom, hanging off the doorframe while she stares across at her. Only half of her eyelashes are curled, but her hair is done, and she’s so lovely it makes Utsutsu gasp.

_Too bright, **too** bright- _

“Well you can’t really help it, can you?”

Utsutsu stares back, shrinking out of old habits.

“Crying just happens, you know? Like laughing. Like breathing.”

Utsutsu shakes her head. You can hold in a laugh. You can control your breathing, if you practice.

“And it isn’t a bad thing!” Hajime says, and leans further out of the bathroom. She hasn’t gotten dressed yet, and the towel wrapped around her chest is slipping, sitting askew, “If everyone cries it’ll be because they’re happy.”

Utsutsu looks away.

Hajime makes a humming noise, a worried little _tut tut tut_ that turns to _tutu tutu_ and by the time she’s come across the room and dropped to her knees in front of Utsutsu she’s practically singing a song off the cuff. She stops when she takes Utsutsu’s hand, the safe one, the one she always holds just tight enough, and asks, “Are you happy?”

_Yes_ , Utsutsu wants to shout. But then again, no. She’s too worried to be happy. Too scared. Too aware of the poor timing and the bad weather and the fact that this shouldn’t happen.

“I can’t,” She begins to say, “Not today, I can’t…get married.”

Hajime hums again. Utsutsu can’t quite meet her eyes. She doesn’t seem to mind, studies the tips of Utsutsu’s fingers instead, tracing them with just her thumb, “No, you can’t,” She says, “But _we_ can.” She winks, and Utsutsu catches the movement no matter how hard she tries to look elsewhere. It makes her stomach flip, more happy than afraid, “It takes two, at least, I’m pretty sure.”

Utsutsu smiles. She doesn’t mean to, but it happens. She tries to imagine smiling and crying at the same time. She thinks Hajime could do it beautifully. O.D could pull it off with flair. Even Sugane might look endearing, rather than like a wreck.

“I’m…” Utsutsu starts to say, but she can’t find the words. Hajime’s hand is squeezing hers almost too tight, and she wishes for that feeling to cover her, to fall into Hajime’s arms and be held too, too tight, to hide away against her shoulder and not see how bright she really is.

That lightness fills her, when she isn’t looking, makes her float too, makes a balloon of her heart-

_She might pop._

“You look especially cute today, Utsutsu,” Hajime says, softer than usual, and leans in close, lays her head against Utsutsu’s knee.

“Hajime, your hair…” Utsutsu warns, but it’s no use. If the pins slip out or the style comes undone, Hajime will wear it all the same. She’ll make it look better that way.

“Utsutsu, do you know why people get married?”

She hesitates. Hajme waits patiently for her to speak.

“Because they love each other.”

She thinks this is the right answer. She hopes so, otherwise she’ll be proven a complete fool.

“Hmmmm,” Hajime says, not quite an agreement, “Yes, but there’s a lot of reasons, actually, I guess. Unfair question, sorry,” She pauses, nuzzles Utsutsu’s knee through her skirt absentmindedly, “What I should say is, do you know why we’re getting married? Why we’re together, even?”

Panic again. Panic more. Panic the _most_. Is it a trick question? Is it a prerequisite to marrying the love of your life that you answer the question correctly? If she gets the question wrong will Hajime leave? Utsutsu has none of the answers, and when she tries to puzzle them out, they only make her chest clench tighter in worry.

Luckily Hajime is a master of one-sided conversations. She props her chin up on Utsutsu’s knee, looking at her with nothing short of adoration, and this time Utsutsu cannot bare to look away, “I think it’s because people like to feel complete. Nobody has everything, but everybody has something. And one thing goes well with another thing, so people put themselves together to share the things that each one doesn’t have.”

“To be complete,” Utsutsu offers, but Hajime shakes her head, jostles her knees.

“No, just to share. Marriage is about sharing, I think. Just the things you can. Even with someone else, you can’t expect to be complete-“

“Because no one has everything,” Utsutsu finishes. She thinks she gets it now.

“Right! And that’s why people get married, like we’re going to.”

She says it like it’s a fact, so it must be true. It’s happening. It’s happening soon.

“But what if someone doesn’t have anything to share?”

Or if everything they have to share is terrible, contaminating, poisonous-

“Nobody has everything,” Hajime says again, “But everybody has something.”

She kisses Utsutsu’s left knee, then the right.

Utsutsu feels full, feels light. She’s floating, expanding, about to burst.

But she doesn’t pop.

“You have everything I could ever need,” She says, voice cracking.

Hajime grins. She sits back up, kisses Utsutsu quickly on the lips. When she stands, her towel has fallen even further out of place. Utsutsu’s vision has blurred with the beginning of tears, but she can see clearly enough to know that Hajime is half naked and probably getting cold.

“You should probably get dressed,” She says, and pulls her hand free of Hajime’s hold so she can wipe at her eyes instead.

“I will, I will,” Hajime sing-songs, and starts back toward the bathroom with the intention of doing just that. She stops halfway there though, and turns back with a serious expression on her face.

“Important!” She declares, a precursor, and follows with, “You have a lot of things that I don’t, Utsutsu. And you want to share them with me. That’s why we’re getting married.” She smiles, winks again, “ _And_ because I love you most.”

She turns around again and heads back into the bathroom, already murmuring a question to Katse about where she left her underwear, a question out loud to no one in particular about what color Rui is most likely to wear today. Utsutsu watches her disappear behind the door, and imagines that she looks even lighter than before. She wonders if maybe Hajime had been nervous as well, but the thought makes her laugh.

It’s silly, but not impossible.

She looks around at all the things that she and Hajime share, the bed and the dresser and the one pair of shoes that fit them both although they are technically different sizes. She wants to share a bed with Hajime forever, wants to share everything with her forever. She wants to find more things inside herself, just so she can bring them to light and add to Hajime’s brightness. She wants to fill herself up with everything Hajime has to give, and she knows that she is allowed, is invited, to do so.

She imagines the people she loves crying over them, and it doesn’t seem so sad. The sky is still crying a bit too, but even that isn’t a bad thing. She doesn’t mind getting married in the rain. She would get married in any weather, if it was to Hajime.

Utsutsu gathers her bouquet up one-handed, takes her headband from the dresser. Hajime is singing in the bathroom as she gets dressed, and Utsutsu hums along to the directionless song.

The moment Hajime is dressed, she wants to be ready to leave. She thinks of how excited she is to kiss Hajime again, always.

All of a sudden, she can’t wait to be married.

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End file.
